


Harry Potter's Autobiography: The Truth, aka he tried to make himself look bad and it didn't work

by purplebela2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Authors inability to stop using sarcasm as a substitute for real jokes, Autobiography, Cutesy, F/F, F/M, Famous Harry, I'm planning on a good ending, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Wizarding Politics, Wizarding World, be sure of that, no sadness here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplebela2/pseuds/purplebela2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In attempt to remedy the public's fascination with his character, Harry Potter wrote an autobiography of what really happened during the war.  Obviously, the plan didn't work and he became even more worshiped by the public then before, except for Draco Malfoy. Draco saw through that shit immediately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Thought Process of the Mess Harry Has Gotten Himself Into

'I have no passion for writing so this should be interesting' is the first line of Harry's book published exactly three years, two months, six hours, and ten minutes after Voldemort was defeated. It should be noted that Harry didn't mean to count, it just sort of...happened that way. The same way one who went through a horrible break up knew the exact time their significant other did this or that in the relationship before it was terminated, Harry had made the mistake of looking at a clock on the wall after the deed was done. Now it was a tick of kind, if something important happened it was so and so time after Voldemort had fallen, no stopping it. 

Harry glanced over at the wall clock and sighed, Hermione had asked him to stop, the phrase 'time to move on' was uttered a few times, but really, he couldn't. For a few hours, he had thought his life to be over, literally. How does one recover from that? When he came out of the white space, it was like he had been reborn, and when Voldemort had died it was like a weight had been lifted off of his chest but with it, came uncertainty. 'What in the world was he supposed to do know?' was a question that had kept him up those three years, two months, six days, four hours, and six minutes ago and was still buzzing in his head. So, yeah, Harry did what any mildly famous person did when something happened to them, he wrote a book, and yeah it sold like crazy.

But hadn't they all expected that? Harry was 'the Savior of the Wizarding World' or whatever the public liked to call him now. It was all rubbish really, Harry never felt any pride for what he had done, getting awards for killing someone really didn't brighten his day more than finding change in his pocket did. “The Savior” part was what bothered him the most, if he was completely honest. How much had he done in the war that wasn't almost exclusively to keep himself or his friends alive? Harry had never set out to save the Wizarding World it had just sort of happened that way, as far as he was considered the title was all false advertising. Which, was the majority of what he had set out to write, to make the world understand that he wasn't this great person who was selfless and kind and had never hurt a fly in his life. He wasn't some faceless hero to mob in the streets and made to sign autographs. He shouldn't be kissing babies and giving the Minister handshakes on a podium.

Unfortunately, nothing turns out that way you want it to, and in Harry's case this was always true.


	2. Draco Gives Him the Reason to Fix the Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco comes for a visit

On Monday morning there was a knock on Harry's door. While this was seemingly a normal occurrence, that wasn't actually the case. Harry had been under the impression that no one (with obvious exceptions who had keys and never bothered knocking) knew where he lived. It's not like he gave out the address to just anyone, famous problems and all that, but there it was, a knock none the less. 

Cautiously, Harry crept up to the door in a sideways position careful to keep his shadow from being seen and peeked through the hole. White blonde hair and an delicate upturned nose greeted him on the other side.

“I know you're there, Potter!” Draco Malfoy shouted, “I can see your shadow underneath the door. Open up, we need to have a chat.”

Shit, Harry thought to himself, and had only opened the door a crack before Malfoy had pushed himself through the narrow opening.

“You have some nerve you know?” Malfoy said as he walked down the hallway towards the kitchen as Harry stood, stunned in the entry hall. 

Trying to gather his wits about him, Harry hurried after Malfoy, “W...what are you talking about?” 

“Putting me in the literary atrocity that is your book!” Malfoy yelled from the kitchen, where Harry could hear him rooting around.

Cautiously inching into the kitchen like he expected a bomb to go off, Harry stared incredulously as Malfoy made himself tea as if he lived there. 

It's not like this was the first time Harry had seen him, they revolved in the same circles now, Harry being a political figure and all. A year after the war had ended Hermione had even told Harry that Malfoy had apologized for the way he had treated her doing her school years and that she had accepted because of the sincerity he had shown. This was also the reason why Harry hadn't cursed him into oblivion at this point, because even Ron said he was an OK bloke, and that was saying something.

“What are you talking about?” Harry said again still extremely confused and unsettled. “I didn't make you look bad…” 

“No, you did worse than that, you made me look weak and childish. As if everything I did during the war was sniveling and crying by myself in the corner.” Malfoy sat down and stirred his tea looking at Harry, who was still lurking by the door, passively. “Come sit down, this is your house after all.” 

“Are you sure about that” Harry muttered, glancing pointedly at the tea on the table. Malfoy said nothing, just gazed back demurely as Harry took a seat. 

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself.” Malfoy said with a blank look on his face that was confusing considering the situation at hand. 

“I...don't know?” Harry said hesitantly , not really sure where this conversation was going.

“I think you do, Potter. Let me read an excerpt from your book,” Malfoy scarily enough, did not whip out a copy of Harry’s autobiography (Harry Potter: The Truth) and instead, started reciting, from memory, a passage that Harry knew all too well, while staring Harry directly in the eyes. “‘Draco Malfoy was the little engine that never could. I walked into this world with no idea of what I was getting into, but he was born in it, and where I thrived, he failed to grow. When I rejected his friendship in our first year, he lived to try and make me regret it even though in the end I nearly always triumphed. Until informed otherwise I was under the impression that while I was running through the woods and risking my life searching for the key to defeating Voldemort, he was sitting in his mansion serving the very man I sought to kill, a fitting task for a child as terrible as Draco Malfoy.’” 

Malfoy finished his speech and sat back in his chair. Complete silence reigned until Harry tentatively said, “That sounds way worse said out loud.” 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, “You think? Also, what do I have to do with an engine?” 

There was silence once again, Harry could hear the grandfather clock in the hallway and Kreacher muttering in the room next to the kitchen. All the while Malfoy sipped his tea and stared directly at Harry, while in turn, Harry stared at the wall, really unsure of what to say.

“It’s not exactly untrue...is it?” Harry finally said.

“No,” Malfoy replied setting his tea back down. “But it’s not the whole story, and it’s a disservice to me, and anyone that was on the other side of the war who didn’t have a choice.”

“But you believed those things! Those things that Voldemort preached! You believed every word of prejudice he said, why should anyone make allowances for you and people like you?”

“It may be true that I believed what he...what Voldemort taught. But I grew up with those teachings. From the time I was born, I was taught the Muggleborns and Muggles were disgusting creatures that were below me, might as well be animals. I was taught that by my parents, I was taught that by my family. When I met you, I was eleven years old and still a little shit that thought I was better than anyone else, and you rejected me. I spent the next six years hating you and everything you stood for, so yeah, I believed the crap that all Purebloods told their kids, what kid doesn’t believe their parents when they tell them that they are the most special thing in the world? But by the time the war started, most of us, and by us I mean Slytherins, were merely doing what we had to do to survive. In my sixth year, I was informed by Voldemort that if I didn’t do what he had assigned me, he would kill my parents. It didn’t matter that at that point I had already figured out that Purebloods weren’t all they were cracked up to be. I was sixteen, what was I supposed to do?” Malfoy finished his tea, stood up and put the cup in the sink, clearly intent on leaving soon. Harry for his part was still sitting, stunned by the speech. 

“What would you have me do?” Harry asked simply. 

“I want you to correct this mistake. We've learned our lessons, we get it, we were wrong. I, and people like minded, have been made outcasts for merely doing what we had to do to stay alive during the war. This so called book of yours will only encourage this, and it’s your duty to fix it.” 

And with that Malfoy left the room in a flourish, in the distance, Harry could hear the door close.

Harry looked at the clock, three years, two months, seven days, seventeen hours, and ten minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me if I should continue or not


End file.
